A lot of you will experience imposter syndrome, whether you believe it or not, whether the people around you admit it or not, and whether you recognize it in yourself yet or not.
I did not recognize it in myself for a long time. Not until I got to law school, actually.
Growing up, friends’ parents described me as humble. Whenever someone complimented me, I would over explain how much I struggled and how hard I had to work compared to my classmates or teammates. I was not particularly “skilled” at school or sports, I would say. I just liked studying. I just liked playing.
To some extent, I still stand by that assessment.
I reached a high level of club soccer without ever becoming particularly comfortable using my left foot. Instead, I relied heavily on the outside of my right. To this day, I am not entirely confident that I understand the offsides rule—and that was evident when I played. Basketball was similar. I scored a lot of points, but I was a center who liked to dribble. Those qualities do not always go together.
Sure, there was some humility in the way I talked about myself. But mostly, I was intensely aware of how many people were better than me. They were faster. They could dribble more cleanly, shoot more accurately, and perform the fundamentals I felt I somehow missed out on learning.
I did not believe I deserved to be called good because I was not good in the same way they were.
That mindset followed me into school. I was surrounded by students and friends whose academic habits seemed to come naturally. They could sit through hours of lectures, color-code their notes, and retain the birthplaces of presidents as easily as they remembered their mothers’ phone numbers.
I admired that and also envied it. My own approach to learning felt dysfunctional. I often needed to see the answer first and work my way backwards, explain concepts aloud, or find an analogy that I could ground myself with. I also needed physical movement, and so I would walk and study.
And even when those methods produced strong results, I hesitated to give myself credit—I dismissed it as luck. I had convinced myself that because I wrestled with things my friends did not, my accomplishments amounted to less.
That is the danger of imposter syndrome. It can disguise itself as humility, self-awareness, or realism. It can convince you that your achievements count less because you reached them differently.
But different does not mean fraudulent. You are not an imposter simply because your process does not resemble someone else’s. In fact, that difference may be precisely why you are here.
You are uniquely capable of doing this work, and I am excited to see what your version of it looks like.
There may be moments when imposter syndrome keeps you grounded, encourages you to prepare, or reminds you that you still have more to learn. In that limited sense, it can be useful.
But the moment it persuades you that you do not belong, it stops being a friend.
You already had enough courage to make it here. The next challenge is accepting that your place here is not accidental. And should you ever need guidance—or simply someone willing to listen—I am here.
But I suspect you will need me less than you think.
Zoe Arvanitis-Dalpe is a second-year law student at BC Law. Contact her at arvanit@bc.edu.
